


Hope

by BuckinghamAlice



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe, DCU
Genre: Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Family Fluff, Happy Ending, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Parenthood, post BvS, sbb2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 07:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11375160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice
Summary: When Bruce goes to visit Martha Kent eighteen months after Clark is killed, he discovers that Clark is back from the dead... and is now raising a baby who looks suspiciously like a mix of the two of them.  As the two of them learn to co-parent, they must ask themselves if what was between them is really all in the past.





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

> See the beautiful art by kingy [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11382372)! Thank you for choosing my story and creating something so gorgeous! 
> 
> A big thanks to my beta [bisexualagentcooper](http://bisexualagentcooper.tumblr.com/) for the help and support!

Bruce didn't like to be awakened by the contemptible alarm on his phone, but he preferred the jarring sound of it pulling him from fitful sleep than lying awake and hearing the alarm mocking him after a sleepless night like the one he had just had. The alarm went off earlier than usual too, and waking early was never a good way to start his day.

But on this day he had something to do. Something he wasn't looking forward to.

It had been a year and a half since Superman died. To the day, Bruce noted to himself once more. _Clark_ had been gone for _eighteen_ months… and Bruce, who regretted hurting him and felt like he had used him, missed him terribly. Things had gotten so complicated so fast back then, and he was left with guilt and regret. And sadness.

He tried to put those thoughts out of his mind though and focus on doing what he could now… and that was what he had planned for the day.

Bruce had told himself when Clark died that he would look in on his mother from time to time. But because he was who he was, he had merely emailed a few times and sent a check every other month. He might as well have included a note saying, “Sorry I let your only son die... please accept this guilt pittance.” But this day was significant, and he was going to visit Martha. She shouldn't be alone.

But he had no idea what he'd say or do, or how she'd react… he just had to try.

He took his private plane to Kansas. He rented a car at the airport and drove out to the Kent farm, and he sat out front for almost half an hour before going to the door. He knew she was home… her car was in the driveway… but he was afraid. Not afraid that that woman, who had been gentle yet strong enough to raise a man like Clark Kent in a world that was out to get him, would be angry, but that the hurt on her face would be too much for him to bear. But that was selfish, and he knew it.

He went to the door, and almost instantly, Martha Kent answered. He was almost taken aback by what he saw… she looked light and happy, almost carefree in a painter's smock and her hair tied up in a messy bun.

“Bruce Wayne,” she began. She looked around him, as if wondering if there was anyone behind him. She seemed too shocked to say much more, let alone invite him inside.

Bruce felt like he should be removing his hat, even though he wasn't wearing one. “Mrs. Kent. Martha. I…”

“What on Earth are you doing here, son?” she asked.

“I just wanted to see how you were,” Bruce replied. “I think Clark would want me to…”

Martha hesitated for a moment, but eventually she stepped aside. “Please come in. You'll have to excuse my appearance and how messy the house is… I try to keep busy…”

Bruce nodded to himself. He knew that always helped. He wanted to say something, but as usual he wasn't sure what, so instead he took a seat on the couch and looked down at his hands.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee or something?” she offered. “Or some cookies? We… I just made some lovely double chocolate ones yesterday.”

Bruce shook his head. “No, no thank you.” He finally looked up at her, and cleared his throat. “I… I'm here to see how you are. I should have stopped by sooner, but I was…”

“I understand,” Martha rushed to assure him. “And you shouldn't worry about me. I'm all right… really I am.”

Bruce wondered if he should press. When he lost Jason, he wasn't all right… not a year later… not even now. But if someone he'd barely known had come to him, he'd have _said_ he was fine. He understood completely.

“It's just that today is kind of a big day,” Bruce began. “The anniversaries usually are.”

Martha looked confused for a moment. “ _Anniversary_? Is it…”

“Eighteen months today,” Bruce said reluctantly. He was surprised that it would escape her… but perhaps she had tried not to remember. To set significant dates out of her mind, and celebrate and remember her son the same way everyday.

“Time does fly,” she said softly. Turning away from him, she asked, “Are you sure I can't get you some coffee or tea or anything?”

Bruce sighed. He wasn't helping her at all. “No, thank you. But Mrs. Kent… _Martha_ , this isn't a social call. You don't have to feel like you should be a perfect hostess on my account.” He paused and took a deep breath, but pushed himself to continue. “I… It was important to me to try and be here for you today, because I know it's difficult, and you shouldn't have to do it alone. And you don't have to pretend that you're not hurt. I understand… believe me, I do. But I won't force you to talk. I'll just be here. I know when I lost someone close to me, it would probably have helped if people had been there. If I hadn't pushed them away.”

“That's very kind of you, Bruce,” Martha replied softly. “And I appreciate more than I can express that you want to help me, but… there's something you don't understand. And I can't tell you anything or explain it.”

“And I wouldn't push you to,” Bruce replied.

Martha sat down on the couch. Not next to Bruce, but one seat over from him. They sat quietly for some time. Bruce wasn't sure if he should try to say something else or wait for _her_ to say something more, but even if he wanted to speak he couldn't find the words.

After a few minutes, Martha looked up at the clock on the wall and sighed. “Bruce, I hate to be rude, especially when you've come all this way, but...”

He realized she was going to ask him to leave. She was pushing him away, which she had every right to do, but he owed it to Clark to try harder than that.

“I changed my mind,” he interrupted. “I will take that coffee. Black, with one sugar.”

Martha stopped and seemed not to know what to say. “Right,” she eventually managed. “Black, one sugar.” She got up and bustled off toward the kitchen, and Bruce watched her leave. She passed a small makeshift easel with a canvas positioned on it, and that explained the paint and the smock. Bruce crept over to take a closer look at it, and when he did, he saw a box of baby diapers sitting behind the easel on a table.

He raised an eyebrow and wondered if he should ask what Martha needed with diapers, but it was none of his business. She returned with a Kansas City Royals mug full of coffee and handed it to him. She seemed to realize he had seen the box of diapers and cleared her throat. “Those are, um… I babysit a friend's daughter while he's at work.”

It sounded like a lie.

“Oh, that's nice,” Bruce replied easily. “Must be nice having a little one around.”

Martha hesitated a moment. “Do you like children?”

Bruce almost didn't know how to respond. He worried he was a terrible father, he knew that much. He loved the children that were, and had been, a part of his family. He knew that much too. But did that mean he liked children?

“I… I'm not sure,” Bruce responded honestly.

Martha nodded. “I figured as much.” She looked down at the cup in his hand and added, “Go ahead and drink your coffee… I don't mean to be rude, but I have to be at work soon…”

“Right.” Bruce gave a curt nod and downed the coffee almost in one gulp, allowing its heat to burn his throat ever so slightly. “I shouldn't have just dropped in anyways…”

“It isn't that you're not welcome,” Martha began, but her voice trailed off. Bruce knew he had no reason to expect this meeting would have gone any better, so he simply nodded and made for the door. At least he knew now… she was trying to heal. She might be okay someday. Never quite the same, but okay.

But something was off. The baby business. He knew there was something there. He'd have to investigate when he got home, because it was nagging at him… but he'd leave her alone for now.

“Goodbye, Martha.”

With that he left, but his thoughts dwelt on their conversation.

&&&

Clark had been “dead” for eighteen months, but he felt that for the first time ever he was now living his life for himself. It was hard to explain how he felt about it… in many ways, he was free. In other ways, because things were so different, he didn't feel fulfilled. But he wasn't unhappy. He wasn't helping people on such a grand scale anymore, but now he was spending all his time helping _one_ person.

Until Clark had his daughter Delia, he didn't quite understand what people meant when they called their children the loves of their life, but now he was a father… and she gave him purpose. He had never loved anyone so much.

That day, eighteen months after he died, he walked back to the farm with Delia close to his body in a sling baby carrier. He had a diaper bag on one shoulder and a canvas grocery bag on his other shoulder. He could have left Delia home and made the trip a bit easier, but he liked to let her get as much sun as she could.

He didn't like to be without her either.

Since Clark had been back, his life had settled into a very comfortable routine; he was content, and that was more than enough.

As he approached the front door of his mother's house, he immediately felt that something was… weird. He noticed there were fresh tire tracks in the soft dirt out front, but that wasn't unusual. People in town loved his mother, and it wasn't unusual for them to have guests drop in two or three times a week. But there was a different sort of energy present… familiar, but distant somehow.

He instantly worried and clutched Delia closer to his chest.

The two of them were staying with his ma here on the farm under assumed names. As far as anyone knew, Clark Kent was as dead as ever… and it was merely a coincidence that Martha's new farm hand Jordan Elliot bore a resemblance to her late son, and that Martha doted on Jordan's ten month old daughter as if she was her own grandchild. Clark suspected that the beard he had grown didn't really fool the townspeople… he always suspected they all knew who Superman really was, but cared enough for his well being to keep it to themselves. He figured they knew now that he was back… but since Martha was happy, they didn't ask questions.

He always feared that someone would come looking for him… someone would come looking for his daughter. If the people knew Superman was not only back, but that he had a child he adored… Superman's enemies wouldn't be able to resist. And it was possible the government would want Delia if they realized she was half alien and half human. They, like Clark, probably thought that the existence of someone like that wouldn't even be possible.

He'd fight all of them before he'd let anyone take her from him.

Delia giggled as they entered the house, happy as usual to see her grandma. But Clark knew his mother was worried as soon as he laid eyes on her.

“Who was here?” he asked urgently.

Martha took the grocery bag off his shoulder. “You bought more pureed carrots for her? She didn't like them last time.”

“She should have them anyways, they're good for her,” Clark replied. “But Ma… who was here?”

Martha walked into the kitchen with the bag and started putting things away. She wasn't looking at him when she finally admitted, “It was Bruce Wayne.”

Clark's heart immediately sped up when he heard that name. He had been trying since he returned to put that man out of his mind entirely, but when he looked at Delia he saw Bruce's nose… and when she got angry and scowled, he saw Bruce all over her. It was impossible to forget Bruce, even if that part of his life was over.

He hadn't told his mother in so many words that Bruce was Delia's father, but she had known. Of course she had known, because she'd always been able to read him. But he'd never been able to bring himself to tell her about the relationship he had had with Bruce before Doomsday… and he didn't want to talk, or think about it now. But he had to. He at least had to know why Bruce had been there and what he wanted. If he'd suspected that Clark was back, or if, God forbid, he somehow knew about Delia…

“Was _he_ looking for us?” Clark asked.

Martha looked at him. “He doesn't even know about her… though he should. But no, he wasn't. He doesn't know you're here, and he didn't seem to suspect anything was wrong. He was here to check on _me_. He's a nice young man.”

“I never said he wasn't,” Clark replied quietly.

Martha hesitated. “You never really said anything…”

Clark sat down at the kitchen table and held Delia close to him. He didn't know why, but hearing that Bruce had been there made him fear that he could lose her. He loved her far too much for that to happen.

“Clark, no one is going to take that child from this house,” Martha assured him.

Delia smiled up at Clark, and Clark felt himself soften. She had that effect on him. Clark kissed the top of her head and inhaled that special baby scent of hers deeply.

When Clark had woken up in that coffin, he had known right away that there was something different about his body. He had never _really_ died, but his heartbeat had slowed so much that he appeared dead… and without access to sunlight, healing took months. But eventually his body found the strength to wake up… something to wake up for. He wasn't sure, but he thought that his body had probably drawn strength from Delia, as she grew inside him… that she had saved his life.

She was a miracle… and Bruce didn't get to come back after all this time and just take her. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he didn't want to take the chance.

“Did you…” he began, stumbling over both his words and his feelings. He let Delia go, set her on the ground and watched until she crawled away, little curls bouncing gently, and found her Donald Duck plush to play with.

Martha poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Clark. “Tell me what's wrong, son.”

Clark stared at his coffee cup as he added sugar and cream and stirred. “I love her so much, Ma.”

“I know,” she replied, smiling softly. “You're supposed to.”

“It scares me,” Clark went on. “Because I may not always be able to protect her. What if someone tried to take her from me? I'd fight anyone for her, but… the fear that it could happen is always there. _Always_. And just hearing that Bruce was here today…”

Martha sipped her coffee. “I used to be so afraid that someone would come here and try to take you from your pa and me. I didn't know if it would be the government or someone from where you came from… or who. But I had the same fear. I understand.”

“How did you get past it?” he asked.

Martha laughed. “I'll let you know when I find out. Part of that is just being a parent… you love your kids so much that the thought of not being able to have them with you and protect them hurts you and terrifies you. You were a special case, and so is Delia… but we just loved you the best way we knew how and hoped for the best. You'll do what's best for her because you love her.”

Clark nodded, unconvinced. He knew his mother was right, and that giving into worry and fear wouldn't help him any, but it was hard to turn those feelings off… even if he knew he should. If being Delia's father meant keeping her safe there on that farm, and not being Superman… and not seeing Bruce… he would do those things. No sacrifice was too great for Delia.

&&&

It had been a week since the day that Bruce went to the Kent farm, and he couldn't help feeling that things just didn't add up. Martha forgetting that it had been eighteen months since Clark died… wanting him to leave… the diapers. Why had she asked if he liked children?

She said she was babysitting for a friend's child, but none of her friends on facebook mentioned any children small enough to be in diapers.

It was all very suspicious.

Bruce decided to make another trip out to the farm and see if he could answer some of these questions. It was much earlier in the morning this time… it was a Saturday, and the sun was barely up. When his rental car approached the farm, he saw a man standing near a truck. Loading boxes into the bed of the truck.

He had heard something about Martha having a farm hand… but something about this man seemed familiar. He was still at a distance, and the man's back was to him, but… there was something about him.

As Bruce got a little closer, the man turned around and looked at him… and almost seemed to freeze in his tracks. Bruce felt tense and nervous all of a sudden too.

The guy was tall, but probably not quite as tall as Bruce. He was muscular, and he had a beard. And if he didn't know any better, he'd think that man was Clark Kent.

Bruce parked his car, and the man turned away and picked up a baby.

He got out of his car and started to approach, but he expected the man to run away. Or maybe to disappear. Wouldn't be the first time he'd imagined Clark.

“I must admit,” Bruce said, as soon as he was close enough that he wouldn't need to shout for human ears to hear him. “You're not who I was expecting to see today.”

When they had had their fling, Bruce was constantly in awe of how ethereally beautiful Clark was… how his eyes were unnaturally blue and framed by long lashes, how his smile shone, and how his skin was so soft. Now that he was up close to him again, he realized his memory had failed him. Clark was even more beautiful than he recalled.

“Hi,” Clark replied. He held the baby so tight that Bruce was surprised she didn't cry.

Bruce stood there for a moment, just looking at Clark… and Clark avoided making eye contact and held the baby close to him. Where had that child come from?

“How is this…?” Bruce began, but his voice trailed off. Again, his eyes were drawn to the baby.

Clark shrugged. “Turns out I wasn't as dead as everyone thought…”

“I had no idea,” Bruce replied. “If I had, I would have…”

Clark shook his head. “You don't have to say anything. I probably could have told people, but…” He shrugged again.

They both got quiet. Bruce couldn't be sure what Clark was thinking, but Bruce was thinking of the last time they had seen each other. They had fought each other, and then fought Doomsday. Bruce cringed internally. How was it that he'd been hooking up with Clark for a couple of months and not realized he was Superman?

How had he made _so many_ mistakes?

“Pa?” the baby asked. She looked as confused as Bruce felt.

Clark kissed the top of her head… what looked like some very soft, pretty curls. Like Clark's. “I don't really have time to get into anything right now,” he said. “I have to… we have to be at the farmer's market in twenty minutes...”

Bruce nodded. “I have a knack of coming at the worst possible time, don't I?”

Clark put the baby in her car seat and gave Bruce a final glance before getting in the truck and leaving. Everything on his face told Bruce that he wanted him to go away and never come back.

&&&

Clark gripped the steering wheel hard enough that it could have broken easily. He knew Bruce would come back. He knew it would happen, yet he had still been unprepared.

How dare he show up like that? How dare he make Clark nervous? How dare he look that good?

And now Clark was supposed to just go to the farmer's market and sell eggs like nothing had happened… and all he could think about was how things had already changed. Even if Bruce didn't know about his connection to Delia, even if he meant no ill will… things were going to be different.

When he got to his table at the farmer's market, his hands were shaking as he tried to set up his display of eggs. With no legal documents to prove his identity and a certain unwillingness to be away from Delia for any length of time, he made what money he could by raising chickens and selling the eggs. If his hands shook too much and he dropped a carton of eggs, that was a loss of profits. Just because his rich baby daddy was apparently coming back around, that was no reason to be reckless.

Delia giggled as the sun hit her face, and Clark tried to calm himself. He couldn't let Bruce coming around screw up his day and the things that he needed to do… for right now, all he needed to do was act like this was any other market day.

But it wasn't long before Clark saw Bruce strolling along casually and wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a more casual button down shirt… but he still shouldn't have blended in as well as he did. It made Clark feel… confused and conflicted that he did.

Instinctively, he held Delia closer to him as Bruce approached.

“I don't really have time to chat,” Clark said, stopping Bruce before he could begin to speak. “Now is…”

Bruce shook his head. “I'll help you with this if you just take a minute to talk to me. Please, Clark.”

“ _Jordan_ ,” Clark corrected. “My name is Jordan Elliot.”

Bruce nodded. “That… may take some getting used to. But I'll try.”

Clark picked up a crate of eggs and tried to decide how to proceed. What should he say? His mother had said that Bruce should know about Delia… but… there was no easy way to bring it up, and he didn't think he wanted Bruce to know. He didn't know how to explain it anyways. Even if Bruce only wanted to know how he was still alive, Clark couldn't even explain _that_.

Bruce picked up a crate of eggs and set them beside the one Clark had placed. “She's a cute baby,” he ventured.

Delia, apparently realizing he meant her, giggled and reached toward Bruce. Clark frowned deeply… she was typically nervous around strangers.

“Tell me about her,” Bruce added. Clark could hear that his heartbeat was speeding up a little. He was nervous too.

Clark paused momentarily and kissed the top of Delia's head. She was getting too big for the sling baby carrier, but he didn't care and made it work. He almost felt incomplete when she wasn't close to him, and now that Bruce was here, asking questions… he was happier than ever that he held her close.

“Her name is Delia,” Clark began. “Delia Hope Kent. _Elliot_. Delia Elliot. She was born in November… on Thanksgiving Day, actually. The twenty-fourth. She's mine.”

Bruce looked at her and then at Clark. “Where did she come from?”

“Well,” Clark began. “Without, um, getting into it too much… she came from me.”

Bruce was quiet for a while. He moved several cartons of eggs onto the table… more than Clark needed right then, but Clark didn't stop him. He didn't say anything either. He wasn't sure if Bruce was connecting all the right dots in his mind, how much he was realizing. But this was Bruce Wayne… he almost always connected all the dots.

“Delia,” Bruce finally repeated. “Pretty name.” Tentatively he reached his hand out towards Delia, who again was reaching for him. Clark didn't want to let him hold her yet, but he wouldn't stop him from touching her. Bruce touched Delia's hand, and she giggled.

“She's why you didn't let anyone know you were back,” Bruce finally announced. Perhaps it should have been a question, but it wasn't really.

Clark nodded, though it was only a half truth.

Bruce seemed to watch Clark for some time. Eventually he asked, “When you're done here, can we sit down and talk? Privately? I promise I just want to know more about what's going on… I don't wish to interfere in any way.”

Clark looked at Delia and how she was smiling at Bruce and letting him play with her little fingers. She seemed to take to him immediately. Like she knew.

Sighing, but thinking of his daughter, Clark agreed. Bruce left after that, and Clark worried. But for Delia's sake, he hoped he was doing the right thing.

&&&

Bruce didn't know how it was possible, but from the moment he laid eyes on the child, he knew that somehow she was his too. He knew nothing about Clark's biology, but he knew that he saw not only hints of himself but many features he remembered from his mother. She had been beautiful… that baby girl was beautiful too.

And if she was his daughter, he would do whatever possible to help Clark take care of her. Even if Clark didn't want him around… which he seemed not to… he would send money and make sure she had the best possible education when she was older and never wanted for anything. Clark and Martha wouldn't want either.

But he thought about that little girl… and he really hoped Clark would allow him to be in her life.

He was waiting outside the farmer's market when Clark finished up for the day. They both went back to the farm. Silently, Clark carried Delia into the house and Bruce followed.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee or something?” Clark asked.

Bruce started to ask what it was with his family and offering coffee, but decided it would be more polite just to take it. Clark let Delia crawl around on the floor as he wandered into the kitchen and started the coffee pot.

It was strange, being around Clark now. Just such a short time ago, he thought Clark was dead… now here he was, offering him coffee and fussing over a baby. It was surreal. Bruce blamed himself so much for what had happened to Clark… what he thought had happened… but if he was here still… No. Bruce still had reason enough to be mad at himself. He'd made so many mistakes.

Maybe if it hadn't been for their fight, before Clark fought Doomsday, Clark would have let him know he was back… and let him know about Delia.

“I suppose you've figured it out,” Clark said softly as he handed Bruce a mug.

Bruce looked over at Delia. “I have some theories.”

Clark poured himself a cup of coffee as well and drummed his fingers on the side of it. He didn't drink any. “I…,” he began. “Well… it seems my heart never stopped… just slowed down a whole lot. So I looked dead, but it was probably more like a coma.”

Bruce closed his eyes. He had held Clark's body in his arms… he had even closed Clark's eyes when he thought he was dead. He didn't like remembering any of it.

“I woke up after a while,” Clark went on. “I was in the coffin and I just had to get out of it… so… I dug my way out. It was hard though… I hadn't seen sunlight in so long, I had no strength. It actually took quite a while for my powers to start coming back. I'm still not like I was.”

“I wish I had realized…” Bruce began. “And that I hadn't fought you…”

Clark sighed. “It's probably for the best if we agree now that that's in the past. We were both manipulated in that situation… you wouldn't have hurt me if you had known who I was.”

“I should have known,” Bruce replied.

Clark set his cup on the table and walked up behind Delia. He scooped her into his arms. She definitely took after Clark most of all… his curls and his eyes and his softness. It was so clear how much he loved her… Bruce's heart sped up at the sight of the two of them together. He wanted to be a part of their little world. He had never been more sure.

Bruce blinked and searched for something to say. “I didn't even know that you could, you know, have children.”

“Kryptonians reproduced too,” Clark replied. “I'm living proof.”

“No, I meant...” Bruce began. _Of course_ he'd put his foot in his mouth.

Clark looked at Bruce. “I didn't know I could get pregnant either. I didn't exactly get a biology text book on how my body worked. But when my super hearing came back, the first thing I heard with it was that there was another heartbeat with me. I x-rayed myself and I saw her. My body is pretty… interesting. Turns out I've got like… _a lot_ of organs in there.”

Bruce had to laugh. “Of course. Why wouldn't you?”

“Right?” Clark asked, laughing himself. It was the first time since before he'd “died” that Bruce had heard that magical, musical sound. Delia laughed too, and Bruce felt his heart jump into his throat. He had never heard anything so wonderful. But the laughing died down after a moment, and the two of them silently exchanged a look. Bruce reminded himself again that he wasn't there just to talk to Clark.

Seemingly sensing what Bruce was feeling, Clark kissed Delia's temple softly. “Yes, well,” he began. “Turns out my body is capable of doing some pretty incredible things.”

Bruce's pulse was getting fast again. The two of them were such a beautiful picture… God, how he wanted to be a part of it. “Can… can I hold her?” he asked. He knew he should play it cooler than that, but he couldn't help himself. “I'll be careful, I promise.”

Clark hesitated a moment but eventually handed the baby to Bruce. He watched carefully to make sure that Bruce _was_ indeed careful, but in that moment all Bruce saw was Delia. She was soft and smelled clean, and she looked up at him with the biggest, bluest eyes he had ever seen. She was so beautiful… and she was his daughter. Delia was soft and pretty, and though she had at least some of that Kryptonian indestructibility, she seemed delicate. Just like Clark, Bruce thought to himself. She was such a sweet light… Bruce just wanted to wrap himself around her and protect her. To do everything for her. To thank Clark for creating her.

“She's amazing,” Bruce finally said. For some time, he held Delia. She laughed and made baby chatter and touched his face, and he had never been so happy. Bruce couldn't explain it really, but just like he'd known as soon as he saw her that she was his, the minute he held that baby in his arms, he knew he'd love her for the rest of his life.

Eventually Clark, who had watched quietly the whole time Bruce held her and hadn't interfered, cleared his throat softly. Bruce bristled slightly, thinking Clark was going to take Delia back, but instead he spoke softly. “You know that she's…”

“My daughter,” Bruce supplied. “ _Our_ daughter.”

“She's _ours_ ,” Clark reiterated softly.

&&&

Clark couldn't believe that he'd admitted practically everything to Bruce. Bruce knew about Delia, and he wanted to see her more. Clark had agreed to that. He'd be seeing Bruce more too. Everything changed so much and so fast… but Delia had immediately taken to Bruce and seemed happy, so he couldn't be upset.

But he thought back to his relationship with Bruce… to sleeping with Bruce and developing feelings for him and being too scared of rejection to share those feelings. He thought of how they, as Superman and Batman, had fought… he thought of the times during his pregnancy when he'd been scared of raising a child alone and had wanted so badly to have a second chance with Bruce. He thought of how he'd chastised himself after those moments of weakness and told himself to be happy with things as they were.

He didn't know how to feel, now that Bruce was around. He just hoped that he was right to try and trust him.

Still, he laid awake all that night replaying their conversations in his mind.

A week later, Bruce came back to visit, like he had promised. In the time that had passed, Clark had worried a lot about what Bruce's involvement in his and Delia's lives would mean. But Bruce seemed genuine, he called every day to ask how she was and if any of them needed anything, and Clark tried not to let his mind get carried away with what that could mean. Bruce had tried to offer to send money if Clark should ever ask, but Clark wasn't comfortable accepting it. He did assure Bruce that the checks he had been sending to help Martha all went to Delia's expenses, so without even realizing it he had contributed. This seemed to reassure him somewhat.

When Bruce did return, he brought gifts. He brought Delia several very expensive looking outfits – something only a rookie parent would do, Clark thought to himself, because those outfits would be soiled and outgrown soon. And he brought Martha a new coffee maker, because he noticed the one she had seemed old and the buttons were faded.

For Clark, he had brought the simplest gift of all. It was a DVD copy of the movie _Buck Rogers in the 25_ _th_ _Century_. Clark had once said he'd never seen it… Bruce cited it as a favorite.

Clark thanked him, and tried to ignore the way his pulse sped up the tiniest bit.

But the main reason for Bruce's visit, of course, was to see Delia. Though she was able to say quite a few words, some sounds were difficult for her to pronounce… and because Bruce was a new person in her life, she didn't know what to call him. But she had only ever heard anyone call him Bruce, which she pronounced as Boo.

The majority of his first visit was spent with Bruce playing with her and laughing when she called him Boo.

Martha sat with the three of them, helping Clark recount stories about Delia and telling a few of her own about Clark when he was that age. Everyone laughed and had a good time. It all felt surprisingly normal… like Bruce had been there all along. Clark didn't know what to make of it.

The one time Clark and Bruce were alone together, Bruce had turned to him and said, “I wanna know everything I missed. I want all the pictures and video you have, and I want to hear every detail.”

Clark smiled reluctantly. That was sweet, but he wasn't sure how to feel about it. Bruce was just being so nice… he wouldn't say he didn't trust him, but he'd been learning since he became Superman that it was incredibly rare for anyone to be truly nice without wanting something from you. He hated how cynical he felt sometimes, but he couldn't deny those feelings.

But he understood how Bruce felt. If the roles were reversed, he'd be asking for the same things. He did send several pictures and videos from his phone and promised to email more later. “But since you're going to be around sometimes now, you can take your own pictures and make your own memories with her.”

Bruce had smiled and nodded, and Clark just hoped he didn't sound rude. Either way, Bruce stayed until after dinner. Right before he left, he took a selfie of himself and Delia and set it as his phone's background. Clark tried not to smile.

&&&

Every morning over the following week, Bruce looked at his phone first thing when he woke up so Delia could be the first person he saw. Spending that time with her had been so wonderful, and she was an amazing little girl. It was hard for him to believe he had had anything to do with creating her, but he was thankful he did.

He told Clark he'd be back in a week, and he had wanted to return sooner, but he didn't want to push things. He was lucky Clark was allowing him to be in Delia's life at all, and he didn't want to risk making Clark feel nervous or threatened.

But he was feeling _happy_ that morning as he thought about seeing Delia later. It had been so long since he'd felt so happy so consistently… he was thankful.

He had considered taking Alfred with him to meet Delia, since Alfred had been asking for grandchildren for years, but that also seemed a bit pushy at this stage. He'd wait until things were less new… maybe he could get Clark to agree to bring Delia to the manor someday. But again… he wouldn't rush.

He decided to be more casual about things. He didn't bring a bunch of gifts this time… just one for Delia. A black teddy bear with very soft fur.

When Bruce arrived at the farm, Clark and Delia (who was wearing one of the outfits Bruce had bought) were sitting on the front porch, and Delia waved at him. As he approached the house, he hid the teddy bear behind his back. When he was close enough to touch Delia, she reached up for him and said, “Up, Boo!”

Clark smiled, and Bruce scooped her up in one arm while he held onto the teddy bear with the other. She began to reach for it as soon as she noticed it, and Bruce couldn't resist handing it to her.

“You're spoiling her already,” Clark playfully admonished. “She's had a rich dad for a couple weeks and she's already got more stuff than she needs.”

Bruce looked over at him and smiled playfully. “I'm pretty sure I've seen plenty of toys here, toys that were purchased long before I ever came along…” Bruce had to admit that it felt really good to tease him again. Like they were friends… maybe even like when they were more than friends.

“You see her face though, right?” Clark asked, grinning. “Who could resist giving her everything she wanted, and lots of hugs and kisses to boot?”

Bruce had to admit that he couldn't resist.

Martha didn't stay with them while Bruce visited this time. Delia and her parents spent the day alone together. Bruce was enchanted by her and flattered that she seemed to like him too. He almost never wanted to stop holding her… and he even got to feel like a real parent when Clark had him change her diaper.

Delia cried when Bruce left, and Bruce's heart felt like it was truly breaking. Handing her back to Clark and walking away from her, when they'd already lost so much time together, felt just dreadful. But he understood why it had to be this way. Understood, but did not like.

&&&

Two days later, Clark was still thinking about how attached Delia had become to Bruce, and how quickly it had happened. He felt like he should be worried, but Bruce's seemed very sincere. He seemed to want to be there… and Clark was trusting him that he would be. _That_ was what worried him. Bruce fit into their little family so well. So easily. So naturally.

He and Bruce had never really been a couple… they'd been attracted to each other, and spent a few months hooking up when convenient. They hadn't known each other all that well… and now they had a child together, and Bruce was his daughter's other parent. Clark was getting used to him being there and being a part of things. It had only been a couple of weeks, but he liked how it was going. That didn't just worry him, it downright scared him.

He was in the middle of these thoughts when Delia, who had been crawling around on the floor, put her hand on Clark's leg and used it to pull herself into a standing position. Clark watched quietly but excitedly as she tentatively lifted her foot to take a step. Clark grabbed his phone as fast as he could and hit record just in time to capture her very first step on video as she slowly toddled across the room, grinning, and obviously proud of herself.

“Ma!” Clark called. “Ma, come quick!”

Martha ran into the room. Initially, she looked worried, but when she saw Delia, she broke into a wide grin. “Look at this big girl! Look at you, honey!”

Delia grinned and clapped for herself joyfully. Clark kept filming until she sat down again, and without thinking he sent the video to Bruce.

&&&

Bruce watched the video of Delia's first steps over and over again. He had been so tempted to just jump on a plane the moment he saw it, but his next visit was coming up in a few days. He'd see Delia walking. Already. It was going by so fast. He was thankful Clark had sent the video, but he'd have given anything to be there with the two of them when it had happened. But he was happy for the time he got with Delia and with Clark. He wouldn't take that for granted.

When the time for his visit finally came, he was so excited he could barely contain himself. He had a gift for Delia, a push toy she could have fun with now that she was walking. He knew Clark would tease him about spoiling her but he didn't care. When he arrived at the farm, he knocked on the door. Moments later, Martha let him in and he saw Clark standing across the room, holding Delia.

Clark grinned, and set their daughter on the floor, on her bottom. “Walk to Boo, Delia. Go to Boo!”

Bruce was nearly breathless as Delia stretched out her little arms and took a deliberate little step in his direction. She kept going, picking up speed slightly, until she ran into Bruce's legs and laughed loudly. “Boo!” she exclaimed. Her face was alight with pride and happiness, and Bruce felt himself grinning in probably quite the same way. He scooped her into his arms and kissed her all over, telling her what a good job she had done.

“She likes this game where you sit on the floor and she practically runs to you,” Clark said, smiling fondly.

Bruce smiled. “Is that so?” he asked, mostly to Delia, who giggled in response.

They played for quite a while, even after Bruce's legs creaked a little when he bent all the way down to sit on the floor. It should have made him feel old, but with Delia there, he didn't. She was giggling and jumping into his chest like he was a target and seemed to be having the time of her life. She had a big grin on her face, and she kept saying, “Got Boo!”

If Bruce had ever doubted her parentage, he didn't have to now. Already, at less than a year old, she had enough strength to make a pretty heavy impact when she collided into him. If she did it much longer, he might even have bruises later. But he wouldn't have stopped her then for anything.

She did eventually tire herself out… being a new walker was exhausting, Clark explained (he'd learned this from one of his baby books). Clark put her in the playpen that was set up in the front room, and she slept soundly for a while.

“So… since she's asleep, do you want me to go?” Bruce asked tentatively. He was there _just_ to see Delia, he told himself, so if Clark asked him to go now it would be fine. And understandable.

Clark shrugged. “Well… you can if you want, of course… but I kinda thought maybe you'd like to hang out. You know, just in case she wakes up later and wants to play some more, which is likely, since it's still early.”

Bruce nodded. “That makes sense. Of course I'll stay.”

It was soon decided that they would pop some popcorn and watch the _Buck Rogers_ DVD Bruce had given Clark. Clark went into the kitchen for a few moments and returned with a big bowl of popcorn and a couple of beers.

“I'll probably need alcohol to get through this,” Clark joked.

“Oh, shut up,” Bruce replied playfully, taking one of the beers. “It's a good movie, if you give it half a chance.”

Clark sat beside him on the couch, though there were other seats, and put his bare feet up. “I don't think we've ever done this before.”

“Done what?” Bruce asked.

“Watched a movie,” Clark replied. “Just hung out.”

Bruce shrugged. “First time for everything. I'm glad.”

Clark smiled. “Me too.” He took a big handful of popcorn but ate it one piece at a time. It was cute and funny to watch. Bruce took a handful of popcorn as well, and tried to focus on it and the movie.

“Thanks for letting me stay and everything,” Bruce said. He meant it genuinely.

“I'm glad you wanted to,” Clark replied. “You know, I could see you as a cute little boy watching this. A cute little nerd.”

Bruce smiled. “Did you forget that I know you were, and indeed _are_ , a massive nerd? I have the proof, sir… your mother has shown me pictures.”

“I never said I wasn't,” Clark replied, laughing. “Good to know we have something in common though.”

Bruce glanced over at the playpen. “Poor Delia. There's no hope she'll be cool.”

Clark laughed more, and covered his mouth to keep from waking her. “She could be cooler than the two of us put together and probably still be kind of nerdy.”

“True,” Bruce replied. “But since we're her parents, no matter what she'd think we were uncool.”

“You think?” Clark asked. “I mean, I know most kids go through phases like that, but… I don't know. Maybe we'll stay close enough that she won't get tired of me.”

“She will always love you,” Bruce rushed to reassure. “And I hope that she'll be fond of me...”

Clark nodded. “It scares me… thinking of letting go.”

“I'm sorry if I brought up any of these fears by coming around,” Bruce replied softly. “I never meant to make things difficult for you...”

Clark shook his head. “No, it's not your fault. It's good you're here.”

Bruce nodded, slightly unconvinced. He wanted to say something to reassure Clark… he wanted to ask if Clark hated him, like Bruce had initially feared he did. He wanted the answers without asking the questions. He wanted the feeling of saying the right thing without having to hear honest answers. But there was really no way to combine all of that.

“I'm so thankful,” Clark began. “She's loved, so so loved, and that's all I wanted for her. Despite everything else, I'm really happy you're around now, if for no other reason than that.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Nice of you to tolerate me.”

“I didn't mean it like that,” Clark said quickly. “It's just… I mean… you know I was nervous and worried at first when you came around… but you love her. That's what matters to me, and I'm really glad you do. I'm really glad there's another person that loves her.”

Bruce thought of how complete he felt with that beautiful little girl in his arms. “How could anyone not love her?”

Just then, they both reached for popcorn at the same time without realizing it, and their hands touched. Bruce felt so nervous and excited that he couldn't help pulling his hand back as if he'd been burnt. Then, blushing furiously, he apologized.

Clark blushed as well, but also smiled. “I'm sorry too. But, um… back to that whole family thing… I've been sort of thinking. How would you feel about bringing Alfred here some weekend so he can meet her? And the two of you could maybe stay the whole weekend? If that's something you're interested in.”

Bruce couldn't help smiling. When he had told Alfred about Delia, he could tell that Alfred was incredibly eager to meet her, but too restrained to say so. And for Bruce, the thought of having the families come together like that seemed very positive and a good step.

“I would love that,” he answered. “And I know Alfred would too.”

Clark grinned. “Good! You guys let me know which weekend you want to come stay, and I'll make sure the guest room is ready and all of that. I know that Delia will love having you here for a longer visit.”

“I'll love it too,” Bruce replied earnestly. He knew he should have been calmer and cooler about it, but the idea was so wonderfully exciting.

They went back to watching the movie, and except for a few joking comments here and there, they didn't talk too much for the rest of it. But it was comfortable and nice… it was good to be around Clark like that.

When the movie ended, Clark crept to the playpen and gently lifted Delia into his arms. She instinctively snuggled into him, and Clark held her close. “You really were sleepy, huh princess?”

Bruce got ready to leave, but before he went, he watched Clark carry her upstairs to put her to bed. Looking at Clark, holding their beautiful daughter, Bruce realized that not only did he love Delia, but he loved Clark too. And he wanted them to be a family… if only Clark would have him.

&&&

Clark couldn't believe how nervous he felt waiting for Bruce and Alfred to show up. That night with Bruce had gone so well, but he had no idea why he'd asked him to stay. It was a whim to invite them both to stay for the weekend, but it was a whim for Delia's sake. She would enjoy being with Bruce, and in Alfred she'd have another grandparent. Clark just hoped Alfred liked her… and that he approved of how Clark was raising her.

When he and Bruce had been together for that brief time, Clark had never officially met Alfred. He had heard all about him, of course, and one night when they'd fooled around at the manor Clark had been aware that Alfred was home, but they'd never been introduced. He and Bruce weren't together, but they had a child together… so this was a bit like meeting his in-laws.

Clark ran around the house, making sure everything was just so. He double checked that the lemon cake he had made from scratch (from his mother's recipe) was perfect. He straightened the collar on the button up shirt he wore, and fluffed the big bow he had tied in Delia's curls. Delia looked up at him, and with a mischievous smile, she mussed the bow and her hair.

“Delia Hope!” Clark scolded lightly. “Daddy just fixed that.” His unrepentant daughter giggled and grinned as he fixed it again.

“Calm down, son,” Martha said softly. “No one is going to mind if she has a hair out of place. She's still perfect.”

Clark sighed, and looked up at the door. He heard a car pull up out front. “I just want us to make a good impression. I know it means a lot to Bruce.”

“And how Bruce feels matters to you?” Martha asked, a strange look on her face.

Clark blushed deeply. He didn't answer, because he didn't really know _how_ to answer. But he was saved by the doorbell anyway. Martha opened the door and introduced herself to Alfred as Bruce made his way over to Delia and scooped her into his arms.

Alfred had shaken Martha's hand, but his eyes had not left Delia's little face. Bruce smiled softly, glowing with obvious pride, and said, “Alfred, I'd like you to meet Delia. Delia, this is Alfred.”

Alfred smiled softly and played with her little fingers. “Hello, Miss Delia,” he cooed. “Hello, child. My, but you are a beautiful thing.” He looked up at Bruce, and then to Clark in deference, and asked, “May I hold her?”

Clark nodded readily, and Bruce handed the baby to Alfred. Her big blue eyes and long dark lashes stared up into his adoring face, and then she tried to say his name, but it came out as, “Fwed.”

Alfred laughed. “That's right. That's what your father used to call me, too. I'm Alfred. I'm…”

“Your grandfather,” Clark supplied. Alfred looked up at him gratefully and gave a soft smile. Bruce looked like he could cry… and Clark hoped it was from happiness. In that moment, they had never felt more like a family… and Clark's heart was so full with the goodness of it that he couldn't even begin to process it.

Clark was glad that Bruce got to spend time with Delia on a regular basis, because Alfred had no desire to put her down or give her back. And Delia, never one to turn away someone who adores her, basked in the love and attention. Martha and Alfred seemed to get on right away, so the two of them took tea together in the kitchen and then walked around the farm so Alfred could have a tour of the place. They talked about the flowers in Martha's garden and Alfred kept Delia in his arms the whole time.

Clark and Bruce watched their parents and their daughter from the window when they went outside. “I'm so glad Alfred likes her,” Clark said. “Do you think he thinks I'm doing okay with her?”

“You're doing an incredible job with her,” Bruce replied earnestly. “And I know Alfred sees that.”

Clark let out a huge sigh of relief. He was so grateful to hear Bruce say that that he could have hugged him. He _wanted_ to hug him… but he knew he shouldn't, so, once again, he held himself back.

At dinner that night, they all sat around the table in the farmhouse kitchen and ate steak and mashed potatoes and green beans. Clark smiled to himself as he watched Bruce feed Delia. This was the first time he'd fed her her whole dinner, and he was doing a good job. He was becoming a good dad, and Clark found himself feeling an undeniable affection for him because of it.

He spent the rest of the evening trying to ignore that feeling.

The house was rather small, and Martha apologized over and over about there only being one guest room. Bruce and Alfred shared it, although Clark had offered to sleep on the couch and give Bruce his bed. But Bruce had said he didn't want Clark to have to be uncomfortable on his account.

When everyone was in bed, Delia, whose crib was right in Clark's room as always, cried because she needed her diaper changed, so Clark quickly got up to tend to her. But before he could even finish, there was a gentle knock at the door. It was Bruce.

“Is she okay?” he asked. “I couldn't sleep, so I heard her cry.”

Clark smiled softly and let him in the bedroom. “She just needed a fresh diaper. Are you okay though? Do you need anything?”

Bruce shook his head. “No, I'm fine. I just have trouble sometimes when I'm sleeping outside of my own bed.”

Clark understood that and nodded, and once he had situated Delia, he placed her back in her crib. Bruce was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Clark sat down beside him. They both silently watched their daughter for some time, the rise and fall of her little chest as she drifted back to sleep. They listened to the sound of her breathing.

“Sometimes I'll sit here a couple of hours when I should be sleeping, just watching her,” Clark began softly. “When she was first born, I sat up all night so often. I wanted to make sure nothing could take her from me because it felt too good to be true that she was really mine.”

“Because she was a miracle baby,” Bruce replied.

But Clark shook his head. “Because she's my daughter.”

“We're blessed,” Bruce said. Some quality about his voice – not the seriousness, but the richness… the depth – made something within Clark quake nervously. And the sincerity of the remark made Clark feel something stir. Something he'd be working very hard, for longer than he even realized, to keep at bay.

Longing to change the subject before Bruce said anything else that would make him embarrass himself, Clark asked, “Would you like to go to the farmer's market with Delia and me in the morning? I'm hoping to sell at least ten dozen eggs tomorrow… and if you were there keeping Delia busy, it might help me work.”

“Sure,” Bruce replied. “Anything for you. To help you, I mean.”

Clark blushed softly and tried to hide his face. “Thank you.”

“Can I ask you something?” Bruce began. “And… if it makes you uncomfortable you don't have to answer.”

Clark looked at him. “You can ask. I'll probably answer.”

Bruce was silent for a moment, not hesitating, but weighing his words, if Clark had to guess. Eventually he asked, “Why didn't you tell me about her? Would you have ever told me if I hadn't seen her?”

Clark looked away. He was suddenly feeling a bit ashamed. He knew he should have told Bruce, that Bruce deserved to know he'd had a child… but Clark had been afraid. He still felt that his actions had been to protect Delia, but he wasn't proud of those actions.

“It wasn't you,” Clark began. “Not really. It was… When I came back, everything had changed. Even _I_ had changed… and I was really depressed because my life could never be what it was. And then she came along, this shiny little angel who I could dedicate myself to, and she gave me this purpose again. I had someone who needed me and loved me. And you showing up reminded me of this life before, this life I kind of failed at, and it scared me that I could lose what I had… the thought of anything jeopardizing what we had was just too much to bear.”

“ _Failed_?” Bruce asked incredulously. “In what way did you fail?”

Clark shrugged. “People didn't want Superman until he was dead… it's hard not to feel like you've failed when that's the case.”

Bruce winced. “I, um,” Bruce stammered. “For what it's worth, I _always_ wanted Clark. Always.”

“You wanted sex,” Clark said with a smile. “Which is fine, that's what that relationship was, and we both went into it with our eyes open. You told me you weren't looking for a boyfriend and I said I wasn't either.”

Bruce tilted his head. “You _said_? Was that not true?”

“Well, no,” Clark replied. “It was a huge lie… I was looking for a rich baby daddy.”

Bruce laughed. “Dork.”

Clark shrugged casually. Playfully. “Yeah, well. I know who I am.”

“And so do I,” Bruce began. “A good man and a good father.” Clark didn't know how to reply, and Bruce seemed not to know how to go on, because for a while he was quiet again. Clark just waited and let him collect his thoughts.

“I understand you wanted to protect her,” he finally said.

“I'm sorry you missed out on things because of me,” Clark replied.

Bruce shook his head. “Don't be… I understand. I probably would have done the same if the roles were reversed. I just feel bad that I made you feel that way.”

“You didn't, Bruce,” Clark insisted softly. “I was scared for reasons that had very little to do with you. It was mostly that I was going through something I didn't really know how to deal with… and I clung to her and kept others away from us, because that was what made sense.”

With a sigh, Bruce went on, “But I wouldn't have blamed you if you had been mad at or even frightened of me… I feel like I used you, and I know I hurt you…”

Clark shook his head. “We were on the same page though. You weren't using me and you didn't do anything wrong, really. Not about _that_ anyways. And maybe I did get hurt, but I can't and don't blame you for it… and you shouldn't blame yourself. And honestly I guess we both probably got hurt enough at the end of things, didn't we? I don't think either of us deserves any further punishment.”

Bruce sighed. “I still feel like such a fool. And to think, when I was fighting you, you were carrying our daughter…” He groaned heavily.

Clark felt bad for how angry he was at himself and how much he was beating himself up, so instinctively he reached out and rubbed Bruce's back gently. Bruce looked up, obviously somewhat surprised by the touch, but he didn't recoil.

“You didn't know,” Clark said gently. “ _I_ didn't even know. And she's our miracle baby, so nothing bad happened. We're both okay now… and all that stuff is behind us. Right?”

Bruce nodded. “It just… hurts to think back.”

“I know,” Clark replied. “Me too. But look at us now… in a good place, and both here for Delia. It's honestly all I could have hoped for.”

Bruce looked at him for a moment. It was a strange look, and it made Clark feel a little bit nervous, but not in an unpleasant or unwelcome way. It was like when they were seeing each other… it was how he'd feel when Bruce gave him a seductive look and they'd end up naked. But this wasn't a seductive look. It was sincere and felt significant. It made Clark's knees turn to jello.

“So this is all you want?” Bruce finally asked. “Friends and co-parents?”

Clark's heart rate sped up. “Um… well, I don't know. I haven't really thought about it.” Then, after a pause, he asked, “What do _you_ want?”

Bruce shrugged. “I don't know either, really… but I do know I want to see Delia more, and I want to see you more too.”

“I'd like that,” Clark agreed.

Then Bruce did what was probably the most romantic thing he'd done since Clark had known him. He leaned in and kissed Clark's cheek very softly and sweetly. Clark could feel himself blush a little, and when he looked up at Bruce he was fairly pink too. And it was silly… here they were – adults, parents… former lovers. And a kiss on the cheek is what set them both blushing.

&&&

Now that he and Clark were making strides toward possibly building something more than what they had, Bruce didn't want to waste any more time. After their fruitful outing at the market, he asked Clark to go to dinner with him that night. In town, at a restaurant… just like a date, only he didn't call it that. Martha and Alfred volunteered to babysit, but Clark asked Bruce if he would mind if they brought Delia along.

It was such a good idea that Bruce wished he'd thought of it himself.

Bruce put on nice jeans, a black dress shirt, and a dark grey jacket. He thought he looked pretty nice… but when Clark came downstairs in black slacks, a navy blue sweater vest, a grey plaid shirt, and a scarlet red tie, Bruce wanted to either kiss him or go put on a tux so he could look good enough to be with him. Maybe both. Delia was on his arm and she looked beautiful as usual in a red and white polka dotted dress.

More and more, they felt like Bruce's family.

The three of them went a little ways out of town and decided to eat at Olive Garden. Bruce ordered glasses of wine for himself and Clark, and they got Delia milk.

“She's already having so much fun,” Clark commented, as Delia ripped a breadstick in half and began gumming at its center.

Bruce laughed. “Don't you wish it was that easy to stay entertained as an adult?”

“For some of us, it is,” Clark replied playfully. He took a breadstick of his own and broke it in half before beginning to eat it. Bruce simply shook his head.

They were having fun.

Over salad and appetizers they discussed (argued) which _Star Wars_ movie was the best. Being a few years older, Bruce maintained that Ewoks were silly. Clark, who was just the right age to have grown up with _Return of the Jedi_ and still had his childhood Ewok plush, threatened to walk out on Bruce right then.

“I want to know something,” Bruce announced, right after the waiter brought their food. This seemed like as good a time as any to discuss this, so he took the opportunity.

Clark smiled. “If you're gonna ask to trade half my chicken parm for half your lasagna, I think we can arrange something.”

“No,” Bruce replied, laughing softly. “It's about Delia. And you. And how she got here. I want to know what it was like… the pregnancy and everything.”

Clark was quiet for a moment, seemingly thinking back. “Well, like I said,” he began. “I could already tell when I woke up that something was different about my body, and when my powers were working well enough I x-rayed myself and used my super hearing and there she was. But even before I knew for sure, I kind of felt that I wasn't alone.”

Bruce smiled. “And you were right.”

Clark nodded. “I had a lot of the normal human pregnancy symptoms, I guess. I got nauseous sometimes and got kind of sore. I got so big that my ma had to go to a bunch of thrift stores and yard sales to look for clothes I could wear.”

“Wow,” was Bruce's only reply. He couldn't imagine Clark being big… he couldn't even imagine needing secondhand clothes.

“Other than that,” Clark went on, “I mean, I got kind of hormonal… emotional about things and kind of… you know…” His voice trailed off to no more than a whisper. “Horny. Like a lot.”

Bruce was a mature man. A serious man. Still, he snickered like a school boy. He hoped to discuss _that_ more later.

Clark blushed and went on. “I also had a huge appetite. Even bigger than normal… and I would crave the wildest things. Like there was this diner I worked at in California really briefly and I spent like a week craving their chicken fried steak specifically. I ended up flying out there and getting some.”

“So hungry, horny, and crying?” Bruce asked. “How could you tell anything was different if you were the same as ever?”

Clark laughed and playfully smacked his arm. “Shut up.”

Bruce shook his head and laughed, and watched quietly and, if he was being totally honest, rather adoringly, as Clark wiped cheese sauce off of Delia's face. “What were you feeling emotional about?” he asked. “I just… I want to know everything that happened. I wasn't here for you, and I wish I had been… not that I don't get why you didn't want me around at the time, just…”

Clark put his hand up. “I understand, Bruce. And… well… that's kind of what I was emotional about. Not necessarily that _you_ weren't there, but that I was alone. The thought of doing it by myself was scary, but I committed to it because I thought it was best for her. It wasn't that I didn't want you there or didn't trust you or something. I just needed to do what I felt was right. But… maybe I was wrong about what she needed.”

Bruce was quiet for a minute, thinking and weighing his words. Letting Clark's words sink in. “I do understand though, Clark. I really do. As much as I wish I had been a part of things all along, I want you to know that I don't resent you for keeping her a secret. I understand that as a parent you felt you had to do that for the safety of your child.”

“She loves you, you know,” Clark said softly. “And you never have to worry about not having her in your life, because I would never do that to her. I wouldn't do it to you either.”

“I know,” Bruce insisted. “I trust you. And I love her, too. I think she's made me a better person… and a happier person too. I want to be the dad she deserves.”

Clark nodded. “I feel the same way. She deserves the best… and that's why I'm glad she has the family she does.”

Bruce couldn't agree more. But he feared he'd cry, or embarrass himself… or make Clark uncomfortable if he tried to express anymore of his feelings on that subject. So he simply smiled and nodded, downed the rest of his wine, and hoped Clark understood.

The rest of the meal passed uneventfully. They had a nice time, made small talk and laughed at each other's jokes, took turns feeding Delia and cleaning up the mess she made of her highchair. They tasted each other's meals and even shared a dessert, using their spoons to fight over the last bite of tiramisu.

They drove home quietly, because Delia fell asleep in the car. When they reached the farmhouse, Clark carried her inside, and they went upstairs together to put her to bed. Then they slipped out of the room and went downstairs so they could talk without waking her.

Clark sat down on the couch first and Bruce sat beside him.

“That was… unlike any date I've ever been on before,” Bruce said playfully. “It was fun.”

Clark's eyebrows went up. “Oh, it was a date? I don't remember you asking me for a date… you said dinner.”

Bruce shrugged. “I used the less intense word 'dinner' because I was unsure if you'd say yes to the more accurate word 'date.' I was merely being cautious, but smart.”

“Not too smart,” Clark replied. “I act different on dates.”

Now was Bruce's turn to raise an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Well,” Clark began, smiling mischievously, “It's mostly in how the evening ends. A casual dinner like I _thought_ we had might end with a handshake, but a _date_ …. Well, who knows?”

“Can I tell you what I was hoping would happen?” Bruce asked. He was probably blushing again… he didn't care.

Clark nodded. “Please do.”

“Maybe I should just… show you,” Bruce said softly. But before Bruce could be smooth and romantic and initiate things, Clark leaned in and kissed him. Bruce put his arms around Clark and responded to the kiss passionately. He held him close and kissed him deeper, and hoped the moment would not end.

“Bruce,” Clark murmured softly, lips still touching Bruce's.

Bruce paused for a moment and caught his breath. “Hm?”

“You're not just interested in me because of Delia, right?” Clark asked. “Because you have some… misguided sense of duty?”

Bruce shook his head. “I love her, and I… love you. But not because of her. I love you because of you. I want to be with you because of you. Because of _us_.”

Clark grinned and then kissed him once more. “I love you too. Because of you.”

After more kissing, the two fell into a comfortable and cuddly silence on the couch. Bruce felt happy and optimistic because his family was coming together. He had so many dreams now… he had hope. Clark, and Delia, had given him hope again, and he couldn't tell which emotion was stronger – happiness or thankfulness. Either way, he couldn't complain.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who organized and participated in this big bang for making such a wonderful experience and for creating such fantastic content!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Pitter Patter... of the Shower](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11493684) by [BuckinghamAlice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice)




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